Hot for Teacher
by NecessarySolitude
Summary: There has never been a single student that Professor Byakuya Kuchiki couldn't handle, until he came face to face with a certain orange haired pest.
1. Chapter 1

**Hot for Teacher**

**Summary: **There has never been a single student that Professor Byakuya Kuchiki couldn't handle, until he came face to face with a certain orange haired pest.

**Rating: T **because of the language. M-rating as things heat up.

**Disclaimer: **Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite. The title of the story is from the song by Van Halen.

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_**Chapter One**_

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**Karakura High School , 8:15 a.m**

The bell rang out across the school grounds, cutting through the laughter and chatter of the students milling about in the sunshine. Few took notice as a sleek white sedan rolled in through the gates and made its way to the parking lot, though it did draw a couple of comments, for the car was obviously new and obviously expensive.

The sedan whispered into a vacant spot; a few seconds later, with a click of keys and the rustle of a briefcase, Byakuya Kuchiki emerged.

Unlike the car, the man attracted considerably more attention. As he strode towards the school, Byakuya was aware of the stares of the students; curious, assessing. _Is he a new teacher? Look, boys and girls, fresh meat. _As he entered the hallway and walked past a knot of girls, he heard a whispered giggle: " My god, he's hot." He ignored it and continued towards the western corridor, where the staffroom and the principal's office were located, and where he'd been interviewed yesterday for the vacancy.

"_Good morning, Professor Kuchiki, please take a seat."_

"_Thank you, sir."_

"_I see you're here to apply for the vacant position of English Literature."_

"_Indeed."_

"_Pardon my saying so, but you seem to be a bit over-qualified for the post. A perfect score in the university qualifying examination, a master's degree in world literature, did your Ph.D at Columbia University with a thesis on the works of Shakespeare…um…followed by a stint of teaching at Yale…wow!" Principal Urahara looked up with a smile. "With such an impressive resume, you could easily land a prestigious job at one of our universities. Forgive my asking, but why did you choose to come here?"_

"_My health is not what it once was. Teaching at a high school will be a lesser strain for me than the rigors of university life. I know my subject very well, so it should not be much of a problem."_

"_Of course. I understand that you had to face some, er, unpleasantness in your previous position. Is that why you quit?"_

_Byakuya's features hardened, but his tone was even:" There was a slight misunderstanding. I was not given a chance to clear matters and was unfairly targeted. So I decided to leave."_

_The principal looked at him thoughtfully, and nodded. He stamped the school seal on Byakuya's application, stood up, reached over the desk and shook hands. "You shall begin tomorrow, Professor Kuchiki."_

Byakuya entered the outer office and walked up to the desk where the principal's secretary, Nanao Ise, was seated. She rose to greet him briskly. "Good morning, Professor Kuchiki. Here's your schedule for this academic year." She watched him as he scanned the sheet of paper, and cleared her throat. "By the way, I'm not supposed to be telling you this, but there are certain groups of students you'll need to watch out for."

"There always are." responded Byakuya absently, his eyes still on the schedule.

"These are more irritating than your average delinquent. The staff hears weekly reports of their antics, and I'm sorry to say that they have acquired glamor and a fan following among the students. No teacher with self-preservation will interfere with them, and those who did have always paid dearly. Most of them are in the senior year and are concentrated in Classes 17-A and B."

Byakuya paused. "Interesting. The first class I'm going to teach is 17-A."

"Which is why I warned you."

He finally looked up, his clear grey eyes staring at Nanao as a faint smile crossed his face. "Don't worry, Miss Ise. There has never been a student I couldn't handle."

* * *

**Class 17-A, 8:25 a.m**

"IIIIIIII~CHHIIIIIIII~GOOOOOO !" ***POW***

The noise was loud enough to make everyone pause for a second, look at the scene and shake their heads; Asano Keigo, the class clown, passed out on the floor with blood streaming from his nose, said nose having been broken on impact with a clenched fist. Now, the owner of said fist casually sauntered in, taking care to wipe his shoes on Keigo's shirt before moving to his desk.

Renji Abarai saw this and rolled his eyes. _When will that moron ever learn? He must be retarded...or a masochist. He should have been named Ass-ano. _He turned to acknowledge his classmate. "Yo. You're early today."

Ichigo Kurosaki shrugged off his backpack. "Yeah, well, I couldn't sleep." He folded his arms and glared darkly at the blackboard, in an obviously foul mood.

Renji was about to point out that lack of sleep had never prevented Ichigo from showing up whenever he liked, but thought better of it. He grinned and clapped Ichigo on the back. "I've got news to cheer ya up, bro. Before you punctured Keigo's face, he was telling me that we've got a new English teacher this semester."

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh huh. He heard it from Mahana and Ikkaku in 17-B. Mahana thinks he looks _hot_," Renji wrinkled his nose "while Ikkaku thinks he's got a rod up his ass. Either way, it might get interesting. We ought to give our new sensei a warm welcome."

Ichigo looked at him, his eyes lightening with amusement. "Like what? Drawing a welcome message on the board decorated with tits?"

"Nah, we did that for ol' Maki-Maki. Maybe we could send him a ribbon-wrapped bottle of toilet wine. Or do a custom remodeling of his car. Or gift him a couple of Molotov cocktails in the staff room. Let's discuss it with our guys from 17-B sometime. Great minds think alike when they come together."

Ichigo contemplated this, then shook his head. "Nope, not now. Let's wait and see what this teacher is going to be like. If he's alright and minds his own shit, we don't mess with with him. If he turns out to be a dick like the others," Ichigo smiled evilly,"then we'll just have to school him."

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**Author note: My take on the classic student-teacher love story. So what do you think? This is my first story and I want to improve, so feel free to comment or criticise. Criticise, not flame, because simply hurling abuse is not going to make me a better writer and I'll just ignore you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** This chapter is dedicated to my very first reviewer, heriyandi kurosaki, and you too, CallMeSenseiKuchiki. Thank you both, and I hope you enjoy this chapter:)

**Rating:** T for language; may get upgraded to M as things escalate.

**Disclaimer:** Kubo owns Bleach; the story title belongs to the song by Van Halen.

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_**Chapter 2**_

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**Karakura High School, 8:25 a.m.**

Byakuya walked briskly to his first class. The hallways leading to the seniors' classrooms were depressingly dull, the walls coated with dirty white paint that was peeling and flaking. In many places, the paint had been scraped off in large patches, in a vain effort by the janitor to remove all traces of the students' creativity and creative vocabulary. As he rounded the corner, he realised that someone had been busy that morning; right there on the opposite left wall was a life-size crayon caricature of a woman with boobs the size of mini-submarines, hairy mole on her chin and fat lip. To complete the picture was this elegant caption : RANGIKU SUX SHUUS DICK.

This made Byakuya pause mid-step, eyebrows raised. Then he decisively turned his head and strode towards his destination down the far right: Class 17-A. He could hear the_ clickclickclick _of his shoes on the grey concrete, in time to the blurred pounding of his heart against his eardrums. He reached the door of the classroom and paused, his hand on the knob; the steel felt cold in his sweaty grip. He could hear the boisterous energy of forty-odd students from the other side, their voices rising in a dull roar. Byakuya shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

_What are you so afraid of?_

This was the moment he dreaded the most. This infinitesimal pause, this nano-second at the threshold. With it, all the memories of what he had endured the past year. _Standing numbly at the classroom door, sudden silences, their knowing stares, giggling, whispering, having seen the damn thing, like he was a goddamn animal in the zoo, not their teacher...day after day after day..._

_You're past all that_, whispered the voice in his head, sounding strangely like his little sister.

_This is a fresh start for you._

_You're Professor Byakuya Kuchiki, and you cower for no one._

He opened his eyes, summoning his strength. His face instantly hardened into its mask, pale face with eyes like glittering steel. Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door and stepped inside.

**Class 17-A, 8:30 a.m.**

A hush fell over the classroom as the new professor entered. Forty curious eyes scanned and assessed him in the few seconds it took to walk gracefully to his desk. A new teacher was an unknown quantity and one had to be vigilant. This one certainly wasn't like the usual types they'd met. For one thing, he was sharply dressed in a crisp, fitted black blazer, pristine white shirt, black silk tie and tailor-made, neatly pressed black pants. His hair was cut short at the back and had long, side-swept fringes in the front, strands of which fell into his eyes and made him seem almost boyish.

But when he turned to face the class, his eyes surprised them. They were not nervous, but calculating, observant and keenly intelligent as he surveyed the students. Instinctively, the wiser students understood that **this **one was definitely not to be messed with.

At the back of the class, Ichigo and Renji exchanged glances.

"Good morning, every one. I am Professor Byakuya Kuchiki, and I will be your instructor for English Literature", stated the newcomer in a surprisingly deep voice. "I want each one of you to kindly stand up and introduce yourselves." No change of tone, not a trace of a smile in his face or demeanor.

Ichigo arched a brow. _Ikkaku was right, he does have a rod up his ass._

One by one, the students stood and introduced themselves; the girls mostly breathless and giggly, the boys mostly wary and nervous. Professor Kuchiki walked up to each one, listened and acknowledged them with a curt nod. Finally it was Ichigo and Renji's turn. The atmosphere grew perceptibly tense.

Neither one got up from their seats.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," stated Ichigo blandly.

"Renji Abarai," drawled the red-head.

Professor Kuchiki came to a stop, and stood looking at them for a long moment. They stared back with expressionless faces, while their classmates held their breath. Finally, he spoke. "Stand up."

Neither moved an inch.

The professor spoke again, his voice even and perfectly calm: "Your behaviour is crass and rude. When your sensei introduces himself and takes the trouble to come to you, you should extend the same courtesy. Stand up and greet me properly."

Ichigo just cocked his head and continued to stare at him with narrowed eyes, while a slight smirk played on Renji's face.

Professor Kuchiki nodded. "Very well. Then I'll just stand here until you do." He walked up to the front of their desks, folded his arms and waited.

It was the most uncomfortable forty- five minutes in the history of the class. The students were unnaturally quiet due to the sheer tension that pervaded the room. None of them dared to speak as they watched the silent battle between the troublemakers and the new teacher. Abarai and Kurosaki had not moved a muscle during the first ten minutes. Gradually they started shifting in their seats. Then fidgeting. Crossing and uncrossing their arms. Jiggling their legs up and down. Renji resisted the urge to hum a tune. Ichigo realized that sitting still for so long gave him the need to piss. They occasionally shot incredulous looks at the stone wall that faced them in the form of Professor Kuchiki, who had not budged from his position nor shifted his inscrutable gaze. It was not as if they could simply get up and leave either, as doing so would mean indirectly admitting that they, two of Karakura High's most notorious delinquents, were rattled by the newcomer.

According to the estimates of some, it was forty five minutes, fifty one seconds and twelve milliseconds later that they finally had enough.

"ALRIGHT!" snarled Renji, as he shot to his feet, the impact shoving his desk a few feet forward. "Enough already! What the hell are you playing at, you bastard?!"

Several students shrank at the sight of Renji's anger. Byakuya did not flinch. "Didn't you hear what I said? Stand up, lower your voice and greet me respectfully. Is that too much for you to comprehend?"

Renji's face contorted and Byakuya briefly wondered if he was going to punch him. The red-head visibly struggled to gain control, enough to stand still and force out the words, "Renji Abarai..._sensei_."

Byakuya nodded, and turned to his comrade. "And you?"

Ichigo, who had been stock-still during Renji's outburst, slowly rose to his feet, his brown eyes smouldering with fury. He stared straight ahead without looking at the professor or acknowledging his presence. "Ichigo Kurosaki."

Byakuya bristled at the lack of honorific. _One goal at a time. Today you made him stand, tomorrow you shall make him call you 'sensei'._ He nodded curtly and walked back to his desk, and the class heaved a collective sigh of relief.

* * *

**Karakura High School, 11:45 a.m**.

Byakuya trudged back wearily to the staffroom, briefcase in hand. Navigating the lunch-hour rush of students, his mind replayed the events of this morning.

_The final fifteen minutes went by mercifully quick. He just had time to cover the finer points of the syllabus for the academic year. The students were surprisingly well-behaved, yet between pauses, he noticed that quite a few of them were glancing over to where Ichigo and Renji sat stiffly, glowering at the professor. Their glares did not bother him as much as the expressions on the faces of their classmates. There was that athletic girl, Tatsuki, as well as the pretty girl who had introduced herself as Orihime. There was Asano, and also...what was his name...Mizuiro. Finally, there was the hulking student who had introduced himself as Sado. The looks they all gave were identical ones of sympathy, commiseration even._

_He came to a stop as the bell rang. "Class dismissed." The students streamed out as he placed his papers in his briefcase; Abarai and Kurosaki stalked out without a backward glance, followed by the same classmates who had sympathised with them. Byakuya paused as he noted this. __**So they're not just trouble makers, but ringleaders too.**__ Winning their respect became all the more crucial._

_In Class 17-B, Professor Kuchiki came face to face with the second group of delinquents, the most notable of which was a brash, cocky, shaven-headed loudmouth named Ikkaku Madarame. Introductions had gone smoothly enough barring that suggestive wink by Natsui Mahana, which Byakuya wisely ignored. The trouble began when he started teaching._

"_Since I have a double period with you today, we shall get a head start on your lessons. Take your textbooks and open the first chapter, "Hamlet", written by William Shakespeare. Now, Shakespeare was an English playwright who lived in London during the reign of...what is it, Madarame?"_

_Ikkaku stood. "Professor, you said the guy's name was Shakespeare?"_

"_That is correct."_

_A grin spread across his face. "Kinky. Someone should call me Ikkaku Shakespeare."_

_Everyone stared at him._

_He went on ,"I mean, the guy must have been pretty good at __**shaking**__ his __**spear**__, right?"_

_The class exploded in laughter. Byakuya took a deep breath and waited till they settled. Then he looked squarely at Ikkaku. "You're wrong. 'Shakespeare', with minor variations, was a common name in the middle-west region of England where he was born. It is neither a nickname, nor 'kinky' as you put it, but a respectable family name."_

_Ikkaku's eyes showed a slight flicker of annoyance, presumably at his failure to shock Byakuya, but he didn't respond. The professor continued, "Moving on, Shakespeare lived during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, also known as 'the Virgin Queen'...yes, Ayasegawa?"_

_Yumichika Ayasegawa, slender and effeminate, asked with an arched eyebrow:"Why was she called the 'Virgin Queen'?" _

"_I was coming to that. She was thus titled, because despite several courtships, she remained single all her life."_

_Yumichika tossed his head."Hah! I'm more of a virgin queen than she is!"_

_Once again, the students burst out laughing, louder than before. They were used to this constant baiting of the new teacher; it was an honoured ritual for their class, a fine art and an enjoyable sport for their ringleaders. Whether it was embarrassment or anger, the results were always hilarious. _

_Byakuya did a slow mental count from one to ten as he tried to suppress his irritation. To attack him personally was one thing, but to slander an author he revered...__**thou shalt not murder your student.**_

_He went on as though Yumichika had not spoken. "During her reign at the time of the 16th century, arts, literature and drama flourished, leading to the rise of many notable authors and poets, including Shakespeare himself..."_

_It got even worse when he assigned the parts in the play. The part of Hamlet was given to Yamada Hanatarou, who despite his initial stammer, proved to be a confident, fluent reader. He would have done quite well if not for Ikkaku, who kept up a constant stream of crude jokes, puns, one-liners and background commentary, with Yumichika inserting some choice wit of his own. Professor Kuchiki did his damnedest to ignore them. He knew what they were after; losing his temper would only focus the attention on them and lead to a fight they were spoiling for. He was determined not to give them that satisfaction. _

_By the time they reached the scene where Hamlet contemplated suicide, the atmosphere was ruined, his patience was strained to breaking point and Hanatarou was a nervous wreck._

"_T-to be o-or not t-to be, that's the q-question,  
Whether 'tis n-nobler in the mind to s-suffer  
the s-slings and arrows of outrageous f-fortune,  
or to take arms against a sea of t-troubles,  
A-and by o-opposing end them: to die, to sleep-"_

"_Just die and put us out of our misery, you fart," mumbled Ikkaku._

_Hanatarou turned beet-red. The bell rang just then; salvation._

Byakuya pinched the bridge of his nose; he could feel a headache coming on and desperately needed a cup of coffee. He would have to formulate a strategy to deal with them; allowing his class to be disrupted, day after day, was simply not acceptable.

He paused a few feet away from the staffroom. Entering it would mean another round of introductions and conversation with his colleagues, and he was not in the mood for that, not now. He needed time alone, time to _think_. Just as he was about to retreat, he heard a loud voice from behind: "Oi! New teacher!"

His heart sank. _Dammit_.

He slowly turned and watched the man approaching him. He had blonde hair styled into a sharp bob, and was dressed in a neon orange shirt that hurt Byakuya's eyes, black tie, black pants and a green beret. More unnerving than his shirt however, was his ear-splitting grin which revealed a set of large white teeth.

"Shinji Hirako, art and crafts teacher," stated the man cheerfully as he grabbed and shook his unresponsive hand. "You're that fancy new Lit teacher, right? Did ya have a good day?" He cackled and slung an arm around Byakuya's shoulders; oblivious to his stiff resistance, he half-dragged, half-pushed him into the staffroom. "C'mon and join us. Let's exchange war stories."

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**Author's Note: I couldn't help it, I had to depict Byakuya with short hair, he pleased me very much indeed:-D Also, I have no idea what English textbooks look like in a Japanese school; one of the few times that Google failed me. Read, review, tell me what you liked, what you didn't like and I'll try to improve. Flamers and trolls will be ignored like Ikkaku.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Note** : Readers and reviewers, I love you. Speaking of which...**WhiteEnsigma**, you like uke Byakuya? So do I. But are you sure? Are you really, really sure? How about some uke Ichi and seme Byakuya? Or perhaps a nice helping of both? *eyebrow waggle* Do let me know :D

**Rating**: M for language

**Disclaimer** : _Bleach _belongs to Kubo. The song title belongs to Van Halen.

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_**Chapter 3**_

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Resigned to the inevitable, he stood quietly as Hirako-sensei declared his name to the roomful of teachers like an announcer at a wrestling match. The obligatory introductions followed; there was the chemistry teacher Lisa Yadomaru, physics teacher Izuru Kira, biology teacher Nemu Kurotsuchi, sports instructor Kensei Mugurama, maths teacher Hachigen Ushoda(an odd choice of name), history teacher Chojiro Sasakibe, social studies teacher Juushiro Ukitake and finally, music and drama teacher Shunsui Kyoraku (another odd one; what teacher walked around with a flower in their hair? And _who_ dressed in a pink suit with purple flowers embroidered on the sleeves? The man had no fashion sense, yet somehow managed to pull it off.)

"So you're 'that sexy sensei' my girls were giggling about. Welcome to Karakura High School." stated Lisa as she keenly surveyed him.

"For his first lesson, he had class 17-A and B. I bet they made him feel welcome, eh professor ?" Hirako smirked and nudged Byakuya, irritating him even more.

Ukitake shook his head. "Ignore him, Kuchiki-sensei. They are not so bad once you get to know them."

"Are you nuts, Ukitake ? Do you know what they've done to students _and_ teachers who piss them off ? Just because you get along with everyone..." Kensei trailed off, shaking his head.

His curiosity was roused. "What have they done ?"

His colleagues exchanged glances. Then Kyoraku smilingly said, "Now, now, Kuchiki sensei, that's all in the past, and all that matters is the present. Is it really necessary to know ?"

Byakuya sat down and crossed his arms. "Telling me will not frighten me away or bias my judgement, if that's what you fear. I'm here to stay, and I need to know how to deal with the problem students, so enlighten me."

Silence. Then Nemu spoke in a clear, soft voice. "The ones to watch out for are Ichigo Kurosaki, Renji Abarai, Ikkaku Madarame and Yumichika Ayasegawa. They are part of a tight knit group which includes Sado, Ishida, Orihime, Tatsuki, Hisagi, Mizuiro, and Keigo. This does not include their followers and admirers. I'm sure you've already guessed this." Byakuya nodded and she continued. "Not all of them create problems, of course. Shuuhei Hisagi, Uryuu Ishida and Orihime Inoue are excellent students. Mizuiro Kojima is quite clever and could be a gifted student if he wasn't so lazy. But these four..." she paused briefly. "They have gotten into nasty fights, aided by their friends; students, seniors, rivals, anyone and everyone who asks for trouble...they've also run afoul of the local gangs, and several skirmishes have taken place inside the school compound. Twice, the police and at least a dozen ambulances had to be called in."

"Let's not forget the teachers." spoke Chojiro disapprovingly. "We had a string of substitutes, all of whom were sent packing within days. There was Makizou Aramaki, who had to contend with graphic pictures of..." he coughed, "...feminine body parts...and other imagery….of a most _disgusting_ nature...pasted on his seat, his desk and occasionally his backside-"

"Breasts and penises." interrupted Lisa curtly, causing Chojiro and a few others to blush crimson. "For heaven's sake, you're an adult. Rumor has it he made a pass at Orihime. In any case, he burst into tears one day, stormed out of the class and didn't return."

"Then there was that baldy Omaeda," continued Shinji. "He took social sciences when Ukitake fell sick. Seems they didn't like him. Heck, nobody liked him, he was a bully and a pompous ass. So they arranged a lil' late night mugging when he came out of the night club. Scared the shit out of him, took his fancy jewellery, gold wristwatch and shiny Benz car and gave him a broken jaw and shiner in exchange. I'm pretty sure it was them anyhow, cuz I heard Yumichika and Mizuiro laughing about it in class."

"After that, dissembled seat legs and exploding desks." Kira piped up. "Someone released a box of mice while he was teaching in 17-A. A few days later, a couple of firecrackers hurled through the staffroom window, exploded and sent us running for cover. The strange part was they seemed to be aimed at Omaeda-sensei."

"The final straw was the collapsing toilet. He goes for his afternoon ritual in his favourite stall, finishes, tries to get up and finds he's been super-glued to the seat," exclaimed Shinji, grinning from ear to ear. "Fatty - no offense, Hachi – flies into a rage, bangs his fists, throws an almighty tantrum and down he goes! "

"That was Ikkaku's handiwork. He's pretty good with tools." muttered Kensei.

Lisa nodded thoughtfully. "He left soon afterward, denouncing the school as a trashy institution headed by a third-rate principal, whose students were low class hoodlums and failures, and that he was too good to lower his reputation by teaching the likes of them. Who's next?"

Hachigen spoke up. "Rojuro Otoribashi. He was the music teacher before Kyoraku-san. He was doing fine until Renji set his wig on fire. Abarai-kun claims it was an accident."

"Luckily, no such 'accidents' have happened to me." declared Shunsui cheerfully. "I don't want my fabulously fashionable suit to catch fire!" Everyone turned to gape at him. "What?"

Nemu turned away and after a moment's thought, spoke. "What about Tsukishima-sensei?"

Byakuya felt the light hearted atmosphere instantly vanish. A grim look passed over some of their faces; he saw Ukitake shake his head and frown at Nemu.

"He needs to know," she replied, unperturbed. Nobody spoke for a while.

"Tsukishima-sensei...?" prodded Byakuya, growing tired of waiting.

Kensei spoke. "The English teacher before you came."

"And…?"

"Kurosaki beat him to a bloody pulp."

For the first time, the new teacher looked startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not kidding. One fine evening, we all get a call from the principal asking us to hurry to the school. He had found Tsukishima lying unconscious in one of the junior classrooms. It was a mess." Kensei shook his head as he recalled the scene. "Chairs and desks lying about like a hurricane had ripped through them, the teacher's desk overturned, papers scattered, and in the middle of it all, Tsukishima lying on the floor all crumpled up and bloody. I've seen my fair share of nasty injuries on the sports field, but I've never seen so much blood in my life. It was everywhere, and I mean _everywhere_, on the floor, desks, chairs. There were splatters on the walls and some on the blackboard too."

Shinji's face was sober. "We loaded him into Izuru's car and raced for the hospital. We all heard the doctor. Multiple fractures, heavy internal bleeding, broken neck, smashed skull and a severe concussion. Doc said he was lucky to be alive and asked us what happened. Principal Urahara said it was a car accident."

Byakuya gave him a sharp look. "The principal covered it up? Why?"

He shrugged."Honestly, even I'm not sure. Maybe he didn't want the police involved, not yet. The rest of us were too shocked to guess, but maybe he suspected who it was and didn't want to make a move until he was sure. Plus, there were some ugly rumours about Tsukishima and his students...anyway, it was the start of the weekend, and there was time to clean the classroom and return it to normal by Monday. I hope he gave Tessai-san a nice fat bonus."

Byakuya leaned forward, still puzzling over the fact that the principal had hushed up such a brutal assault. "How can you be so sure that Kurosaki did it?"

"Cuz on Monday afternoon, he summoned two boys to his office, freshers. Apparently, they had detention that day and were the only witnesses. They flat out denied it at first, but slowly began to spill it with a little persuasion from the principal. After finishing detention, they had gone past the classroom on the way out and seen Tsukishima talking to Kurosaki. They could not see the looks on their faces, but it must have been something important, because the orange-head was standing all straight and stiff as though he was payin' attention. A few seconds later, he smashes his fist into the guy's face, and Tsukishima drops like a stone. They were too scared to watch any more and got the hell out of there."

"That's not all," said Lisa. "Nanao told me that he had summoned Ichigo to his office, but had no idea what they talked about. Soon after the kid left, Sado and Orihime burst into the office and begged to see the principal. I can only guess that the whole matter had something to do with them. Ever since that day, the three of them act as though Tsukishima never existed."

"And the man himself?"

"Paralysed from the neck down," said Ukitake grimly. "His head injuries were extensive enough to put him in a comatose state for nearly two months. He never recovered and was more or less like a vegetable… they transferred him to a nursing home in southeast Tokyo. He died last week."

Silence fell in the staffroom, stretching for several minutes. Then Byakuya spoke, his voice subtly deepened by some unknown emotion. "And no one, not one of you, thought that Kurosaki should be expelled? That inspite of his unruly conduct in the past, this time by assaulting a teacher he had gone too far?"

"We are not in charge. The Principal is." responded Nemu curtly. "And he will not hear of expelling Ichigo Kurosaki. We were instructed to hold our silence after the incident. When he was moved to the nursing home, the official story put out was that he had been injured in a car accident, and none of us saw any reason to claim otherwise. And now that he's dead..."

"The same goes for you, Kuchiki-san." spoke a quiet voice. He turned see Kyoraku give him a penetrating stare. "What was said here today has been said in trust, because you appear to be an honorable man and a dedicated teacher. What's spoken in the staff room, stays in the staff room. Do you understand? "

Byakuya met the other's gaze. He understood only too well; _the gossip of the teachers is not for the student's ears._ Yet still...

"I understand." he replied, his face unreadable.

* * *

Ichigo turned to his friends after they finished their lunch. "I need to get going. See ya."

"Blowing off already? Take care." Renji nodded to him. A chorus of 'bye, Ichigo' and 'bye, Kurosaki-kun' followed. On the way out, he high-fived Ikkaku and Sado, raced downstairs and went through the fire exit. Unlike the main entrance, this path led to a low compound wall barely four feet tall that was easy to scale in a single leap. He did just that, and went down the route he had travelled many times before, one that led to the Unagiya Shop. If he hurried, he would be able to get some good assignments; all the well-paying jobs were to be had in the daytime, when people were busy at work or school.

Speaking of work, his sisters would be horrified if they ever knew he was regularly skipping school to earn money. But this was reality and he had no choice; he'd promised to take care of them, and that was just what he was going to do.

He'd held other jobs before this. The first one had been as a waiter at a restaurant with five-star pretensions; he could still hear the obnoxious voice of the head waiter, Kurumadani Zennosuke, who he nicknamed 'Afrohead'.

"_Now remember boy, we are a fine dining restaurant, and the customers here are rich, richer than your pitiful brain can ever dream of becoming. They come from the highest classes of society, and you should be grateful if they grace you with their small change!"_

"_Yes sir, Af-Kurumadani sama."_

"_Forget the small change, you should be grateful if they spare morons like you an approving glance! Memorise it until it becomes a part of your soul: the customer is always king, the customer is always right. Make it your nightly prayer and your morning recital. Here, take this uniform, and dye that obnoxious hair of yours black and gel it down. I don't want to see a single orange strand sticking out, do you hear? What will the customers think when they see an orange haired punk serving them?! Oh, and come here by eight am sharp, or you can kiss your job goodbye..."_

Karin and Yuzu were dumbstruck when he appeared in the kitchen next morning with his orange hair dyed jet black. He'd slathered copious amounts of gel on it, trying in vain to flatten the spikes; the overall effect looked very peculiar indeed. It looked like the hair on top of his head had been glued into a cowlick, while the hair on the sides stuck out in all directions.

"What?" he said defensively, as they gaped at him in silence. "I just want to try a new look."

The sisters exchanged glances and hastily went back to their breakfast. Had their overly serious big brother finally discovered his hidden teenager? Not likely!

When he left the kitchen, Karin muttered in an undertone: "He probably lost a bet."

Yuzu nodded sagely. "Against Ikkaku san or Ishida san maybe."

After exiting the house and taking a quick look back to ensure his sisters weren't watching, Ichigo turned left and started running in the direction opposite to his school. His waiter's uniform (carefully folded to avoid creases) and shoes were in his schoolbag; if he hurried he would make it at eight a.m. on the dot.

"_Why aren't you in your uniform?" barked the head waiter._

"_Sorry, Af-Kurumadani sama."_

"_Go and change, and when you finish, come and stand __**here**__. Wipe that scowl off your face, you're supposed to look welcoming, not like you're going to turn them into sushi. Just smile and nod if they ask you anything, and don't give them any lip, boy. Remember the customer is always right..."_

He'd lasted two days. One and a half, to be precise. A waiter was supposed to be hospitable, soft-spoken and well-behaved. He had to be courteous and patient, essential traits when dealing with an irate customer.

Ichigo was none of the above. He was not soft spoken, or well behaved, or hospitable, and he had no patience for putting up with someone who was screaming at him and calling him names.

His first customer was a woman who had kept him waiting for forty five minutes while she tried to decide on her order, followed by an obnoxious bunch of tourists, an arguing couple with a couple of brats who tried to trip him up and squirted sauce on his uniform, and finally a group of young executives who laughed too loudly, drank too much and acted as though they owned the damn place. Through all this, he gritted his teeth and tried to keep his face as pleasant as possible. _Customer is king, my ass,_ he thought sourly as he later wiped the puke from his uniform.

The final straw came when, on his second day, he had to serve a high strung, bespectacled man who perused the menu with slightly shaky fingers.

"_I'll have the butter roasted lobster with noodle broth and a glass of white wine, please."_

"_Certainly, sir."_

"_Oh, and make sure it is served on a blue china plate. No other colour. Absolutely no other colour, you understand ?"_

"_I'll try my best, sir."_

Fifteen minutes later, he placed the man's order on the table. But the customer made no move to pick up his fork; he stared at the dish, his body stiff and eyes bulging slightly.

In a voice so quiet that Ichigo had to strain to hear him, he asked: "The plate ?"

"Pardon, sir ?"

"What about the plate ? I said I wanted a **blue .china. plate**. This plate is a putrid green colour."

"Sir, I asked, but we don't have any blue china plates-"

"WHO GIVES A SHIT ?! "

He went rigid as his face and collar got drenched; the customer had hurled his glass of wine at Ichigo and leapt to his feet, waving his knife and screaming obscenities.

"I CAN BUY THIS WHOLE MOTHERFUCKING RESTAURANT AND ALL THE PEOPLE IN IT IF I GODDAMN WANT TO YOU BASTARD, SO **FUCK **YOU ! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ?! IM A PAYING CUSTOMER AND IF I TELL YOU TO FETCH ME THE PLATE I WANT, YOU DO THAT AND IF I TELL YOU TO WIPE MY ASS YOU SHALL GODDAMN DO THAT, YOU SONOFABITCH-"

_Fuck. That's. It. _thought Ichigo, feeling oddly calm.

He charged at the customer just as the man grabbed the dish and hurled it at him. He dodged the missile and dealt four-eyes an almighty punch, shattering his nose and knocking him out.

When the ringing in his ears subsided, he became aware of the deathly silence in the restaurant. He slowly turned around and met the bulging eyes of head waiter, Kurumadani Zennosuke.

_Crap._

The plate that missed Ichigo had landed on Afrohead. Bits of lobster and strings of noodles hung like confetti from his hair. His uniform was drenched with broth. Ichigo braced himself as Kurumadani took a long, deep breath and opened his mouth.

"**KUROSAKI !"**

Less than a minute later, he was out of uniform and on the street, looking for a new job.

He had gone through a string of them; as a busboy, supermarket clerk, cashier, call center employee, store salesman, baker's assistant...none of them had lasted long because of his temper, his smart-aleck retorts to any perceived insult, and his whole attitude which plainly stated that he'd rather be beaten to death than take any shit. Tatsuki had informed him about an opening for assistant instructor at a nearby dojo; that had been a job he'd actually liked, until he accidentally applied too much pressure to the chief instructor's neck during a demonstration, making the man pass out.

A week later, he was called to the office, where the chief instructor kindly explained that they had to "let him go". _"You're a supremely strong martial artist, Kurosaki-san. Your capabilities are far too great for this small dojo. Perhaps you ought to...er...find a place more suited to your talents, hm?"_

Ichigo shook his head as he recalled his not-so-glorious career. With an effort, he shut away those memories; what was the point of going there?

He had arrived at the entrance to the Unagiya Shop; he reached for the door, only for it to abruptly swing open from the other side, almost smacking him on the nose.

Ikumi Unagiya stood glowering at him. "What you are doing here?"

Ichigo sauntered past her. "Got any good assignments? I'm available."

"Just answer me."

He picked up a stack of papers from the desk."Mow the Takamuras' lawn- walk Shinichi san's dog- recover Kyouta's missing toad- grocery shopping for the Kinomiyas, blah,blah,blah...repaint the Mitashi family's house, now this looks promising-"

Ikumi practically growled. "_Ichigo_…"

He turned to look at her. "This needs to be done today, right ? I'll go there now."

She threw up her hands. "Aren't you supposed to be in school ?"

He left without replying, leaving his boss staring after him. Then Ikumi took a deep breath and massaged her temples; she could feel a headache coming on.

"Ichigo…" she whispered."What am I going to do with you ?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks to a kitchen accident involving smoking hot oil, I won't be able to use my left hand for nearly a month (now I understand what the medieval torture must have felt like), which means that updates will be slow. Sorry guys :(**


	4. Chapter 4

**Rating: **T for language

**Disclaimer: **Kubo owns Bleach (dammit); Van Halen own the title (and how.)

* * *

**_Chapter 4_**

* * *

**North Karakura, 5:30 p.m.**

Byakuya opened the door of his house, removing his shoes and placing them neatly in the hallway. He walked into the living room, loosened his tie, dropped his briefcase on the couch and sat down; head tilted backward, one arm resting on the back of the couch and the other draped across his face, palm resting on forehead and shielding his closed eyes. Silence followed, cut by the steady _tickticktick_ of the hall clock; he suddenly felt so tired, tired and_ old_. Here, in his wife's hometown, he felt like a stranger, adrift and aimless, even though he had a new job and a new home.

Why had he come here anyway? To heal himself? To start his life over? Did he believe that by returning to Hisana's birthplace, he would somehow be able to escape the ghosts of his past?

He stifled a bitter laugh. _Too late, they're already in your head._

He reached out and pressed the button on the answering machine, eyes still closed. A short _beep,_ followed by a tentative female voice.

_"Hello...nii-sama? It's me, Rukia. How are you? Is everything all right? Please call me, okay?"_

The sound of his sister's voice jerked him out of his stupor. He moved to pick up the telephone and dial the number that would reach her, a continent away; his movements felt sluggish as though the air had turned to ice.

The lines crackled as she picked up. "_Hello?_"

"It's me, Rukia."

"_Nii-sama!_" she exclaimed, sounding relieved. "_I was so worried about you, you only called me once after you got there !_"

"I apologize. I was a bit busy."

"_So how was your first day at Karakura High ? Did the students give you any trouble ?_"

Byakuya briefly recalled a certain orange-head. "It was alright." No need to worry Rukia further, she always fussed too much where he was concerned.

"_Are you sure ?_" she persisted. "_Returning to teaching so soon will not be good for your health. Nii-sama, maybe I should come down there-_"

He cut her off firmly. "Absolutely not. You have exams in three weeks' time and I will not have you worrying about me. Stay there, do you understand ?"

"_But nii-sama-_"

"Stay there, Rukia, and study hard." His voice softened slightly, trying to reassure her. "I'm fine, I promise you. After the exams, you can come and visit me."

"_...Alright._" she agreed with some reluctance. "_Nii-sama...please take care of yourself._"

"I will." He put the phone down, rubbed his eyes and slowly rose to his feet. Toward the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom. Halfway up, Byakuya experienced a wave of dizziness, forcing his palm to grip the banister till the knuckles turned white. _Keep moving._ Up- onto the second floor landing- to the bedroom. Shower and mercifully rest for a while. Good God, had he ever felt this tired? _What happened to you, Byakuya Kuchiki ? Was the shock too much for you after all ? One crushed dream too many ?_

He collapsed on the bed and shut his eyes. With any luck, the nightmares would leave him alone this time.

* * *

Ichigo shot up in bed, heart pounding and drenched in sweat. He stared wildly around the room, at the flickering shadows thrown by the streetlight and the occasional vehicle. _A nightmare, only that, no one's here. _He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down; a surge of vomit rose in his throat and he had to clamp his hand over his mouth. He leaned back against the headboard, eyes squeezed shut as he drew in short harsh breaths; the bile receded, leaving his throat raw. He swallowed and turned on his side, his body trembling. A muffled sob escaped into the stillness and another, before they were cut off.

How many months had it been ? Periodic bouts of insomnia, occasionally relieved by fitful sleep which barely lasted a few hours. It inevitably sucked him down into twisted dreams, reminding him of those memories he had pushed to the back of his mind, that which he tried so desperately to forget.

Ichigo lay in the dark for a long while. Suddenly he felt restless. He needed to do something, _anything_.

Kicking away the sheet twisted around his legs, he walked to the bathroom and paused in front of the sink. He rinsed his mouth with cold water and splashed some on his face, once, twice; as he reached for the towel, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The image stared back at him; a lean, muscular young man in his late teens, with brown eyes and spiky orange hair. The strands stuck out in all directions, falling messily over the nape of his neck, ears and eyebrows furrowed into a permanent scowl.

Overall, the appearance of a bratty punk. But his eyes were of someone far, far older.

Ichigo abruptly turned and walked back to his room. He stopped as he wondered what to do. It was 4:00 a.m. on the dot, yet he felt wide awake and buzzing with manic energy. He had a couple of hours to kill before school and if he didn't do something, he would go nuts. He looked at the pile of books on his desk. School work ? _Nah, already did that._ Despite everything, he tried to keep up with his lessons whenever he could. Clean his room ? He had done that twice on previous occasions. Surf the Net ? _Not in the mood._ Prepare breakfast ? Yuzu would freak out.

Finally, he decided to take a walk in the park. Five minutes later, Ichigo was silently heading down the hall, fully dressed; he paused at the door to his sisters' bedroom and listened. He could hear Yuzu's gentle breathing mingled with Karin's soft snores. They were evidently sound asleep and dreaming peacefully.

He felt a surge of love, tinged with envy. He craved it, that feeling of utter peace, just for a moment. It was a feeling he'd forgotten a long time ago.

Turning away, Ichigo walked downstairs, treading noiselessly until he reached the front door. He grabbed the spare keys from their hook and stepped out, locking the door behind him.

* * *

**Karakura High, Class 17-A, 8:30 a.m.**

The class instantly fell silent as Byakuya strode into the classroom, followed by a chorus of "good morning, Kuchiki sensei."

"Good morning."

He took the roll call; saying the name 'Kurosaki' and getting no response, he looked up and saw the empty seat at the back. "Where's Ichigo Kurosaki?"

Silence. Then Abarai cleared his throat. "Ichigo's sister is ill, so he won't be coming today...sensei."

Byakuya stared at him, then directed his next question at Inoue. "Is that true ?"

"Y-yes, sensei. Kurosaki-kun has two younger sisters and one of them has fallen really sick. She had to be taken to the hospital yesterday and the doctors say it's serious and that she needs bed rest for atleast a month, and Kurosaki-kun has to take care of all the medical expenses apart from his school work-"

"Bottom line is, he may miss school for a few days." interrupted Renji.

_Now why don't I believe that ? _Byakuya stared at them a while longer as he pondered what to do; Abarai looked earnest and serious while Inoue's face turned pink. What could he do ? Their story had the ring of truth and he could hardly accuse them of dishonesty without some proof. "Very well, sit down." Perhaps he ought to view Kurosaki's absence as a blessing, as it meant one less headache he had to deal with. Indeed, the class proceeded quite smoothly as he began with "Hamlet" and assigned the various parts in the play. The only snag was Abarai's reaction when he got the role of Hamlet's best friend, Horatio.

"Do I need to read this ?"

"Evidently so."

He reddened. "I mean...someone else can read it... better than me."

Byakuya paused. "Is there a problem ?"

Abarai looked angry and embarrassed. "I can't read well." he mumbled.

"I'm your teacher and I will be the judge of that. And I can't do that if you won't read."

"So what if you can't ? All the other teachers, everyone else says the same."

"Then it's their fault for not correcting you and your fault for not making an effort."

Abarai gave him a startled look, which quickly turned to a scowl. "I always make an effort."

"Then don't waste my time. When your turn comes, read the dialogue and don't worry about making mistakes. All you need to do is listen when I correct you."

Thus they began enacting the play. Renji plowed through his dialogues; the professor's words had irritated him and he was determined to prove a point. True to his word, Kuchiki-sensei corrected him whenever he botched his pronunciation or stumbled upon a certain word or phrase, making him repeat it over and over till he got it right. By the time the bell rang, Renji's head felt like a wrung-out sponge, yet he experienced a certain satisfaction, even triumph.

Kuchiki-sensei nodded to him. "Well done, Abarai." A brief look of surprise appeared on Renji's face. "For today's homework, I want you all to review the scenes we have just performed. Tomorrow, I will be asking you questions to test your understanding. Class dismissed."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Class 17-B, 2:00 p.m.**

After taking attendance, he turned to the class. "We shall begin where we left off. Take your textbooks and open it to page- what is it, Madarame ?"

Ikkaku stood up, raising his voice so the whole class could hear. "Sir, on behalf of the class, I'm asking permission for us to do something else during this hour."

"Why ?"

"Because..." he paused, shrugged and looked Byakuya straight in the eye. "Because you're a fucking boring teacher, and this lesson is as boring as fuck."

Gasps and whispers rippled through the class. Byakuya, however, was unfazed; he had been expecting something like this and was fully prepared. "In that case, why don't **you** take class today, Ikkaku Madarame ?"

"Excuse me ?"

"You heard me. Since you feel I'm boring, why don't you take today's lesson ? That is, if you think you can do a much better job."

Ikkaku's face split into a disbelieving grin, eyebrows raised high. "Are you nuts, teacher ?"

"Hardly. Let's begin with this scene: 'to be or not to be.' You can have Hanatarou's part."

"Hell no."

"Start teaching, Ikkaku," he spoke coldly. "We don't have time to waste."

"_**Fuck**_ no."

"Does that mean you're incapable of doing so ? You're obviously not as cocky as you appear."

"Nice try, teacher. Screw you."

"I see." The students held their breath as Kuchiki-sensei strolled to his desk and opened his briefcase. They watched as he slowly extracted a paper and turned to face the class, his eyes scanning the sheet.

"Apparently, you're here on a sports scholarship, Ikkaku Madarame." murmured the professor.

Silence. Ikkaku's eyes were fixed on the sheet of paper. He was no longer smiling.

"Also, your test scores leave much to be desired. You've managed a pass in most subjects, and scraped through with the bare minimum in English and Social Studies. I see that Ochi and Ukitake have been quite lenient with you."

He folded his arms. "What's your point ?"

"If you don't do what I say, I'll personally ensure that you lose your scholarship."

Ikkaku stiffened, unable to believe his ears. "Excuse me ? The fuck are you saying-"

"The conditions of your scholarship state that you secure the minimum grade required to pass _in all subjects on each of the standardized tests_. Failure to fulfil this condition shall result in termination of your scholarship. Am I right in assuming this is the only thing keeping you at school ? "

"Ochi sensei-" he began furiously.

"I am not Ochi sensei. I'm not a nice teacher, I don't tolerate those who disrupt my class, and I have no intention of being lenient with your answer sheets just because you think you deserve it. If you won't work or allow the other students to work, then I'll just have to get rid of you."

Ikkaku stared at Byakuya with murder in his eyes. The students nearby visibly drew back, anticipating violence. It would take only a split second for the bald-head to leap over the desk, charge at the professor and smash his skull in a single blow. Luckily for everyone, Ishida spoke up.

"He'll do it." His eyes met Ikkaku's. "Won't you, Madarame ?" _Don't be stupid._

"Of course he will." Yumichika, smiling gaily. "C'mon, Ikkaku. You heard Kuchiki-sensei, he's a lot stricter than Ochi-sensei. We need to keep up !"

Ikkaku remained silent. A muscle ticced in his jaw as he stared at an impassive Kuchiki-sensei.

"Come on", prodded Yumichika. "You take the part of Hamlet, I'll be Ophelia. What do you say, eh ?"

The tension exploded into laughter. Ikkaku's shoulders slumped and he rolled his eyes at Yumi; meanwhile, Byakuya sat down behind his desk and folded his arms. "It's settled then. Read."

Visibly biting his tongue, Ikkaku picked up his textbook and proceeded to read; he was ably supported by Yumichika who enacted the role of Ophelia with relish. The professor, however, was not quite done with him; he peppered Ikkaku with questions several times, raised doubts that left him tongue-tied and corrected his many blunders with an imperious contempt that further enraged him. He desperately wanted to lash out at the man, but the threat of losing his scholarship, combined with a warning glance from Yumi, kept him still. _Not here, not in class._

For his part, Byakuya was intent on giving the bald-head a taste of his own medicine. Madarame had pushed him too far, and the vindictive side of his nature enjoyed watching him squirm as he asked several arcane doubts about the play that Ikkaku could not possibly know the answers to. He had not smiled once, not even at Yumichika's quip; he was well aware that this confrontation was not over. For whatever reason, Madarame had disliked him at first sight, and what Byakuya did today had only succeeded in stoking the flames of enmity.

"Class dismissed. " he stated curtly as the final bell rang. The students rose to their feet and left the classroom in a swirling rush of books and bags; Ikkaku paused briefly to give him a long, hard stare and strode out, Yumichika hot on his heels.

"Excuse us, Kuchiki-sensei." He turned to see Ishida, Hanatarou and Hisagi standing in front of his desk.

Ishida cleared his throat. "Please don't take offense at what Madarame said today, sir. Not all of us share his opinion."

"T-that's right. " spoke Hanatarou timidly. "We think you're a good t-teacher, Kuchiki-sensei."

"You'll have to excuse Ikkaku, sensei. He's always been a loudmouth and most teachers just go along with it." stated Hisagi.

"I'm not like most teachers." responded Byakuya flatly, placing his papers in his briefcase. "He's your friend, isn't he? Make him understand that if he doesn't clean up his act soon, I intend to expel him from this class. I hope that's clear."

"Yes, sir." They watched him somberly as he clicked his briefcase shut and walked out the door.

* * *

Ichigo was knee-deep in a pile of cardboard boxes and crates. He lifted a sealed box that felt as though it weighed a ton, and was attempting to shove it on top of the neatly stacked pile in the van when the cell in his pocket buzzed. Giving the box a quick shove with his shoulder, he turned and yanked off his cap, flipped open his cell and glanced at the caller i.d. "Wassup, Renji ?"

"_You moron, where the hell have you been ?!_"

_My sisters need new uniforms, idiot_. "I'm at work. Is something wrong ?"

"_Sheesh, couldn't you have warned us ? Inoue and I had to cover for you today because Kuchiki asked about you._"

_Who ?_ he wondered blankly_ ...oh right, Buttrod Kuchiki. _He snorted. "You're kidding, right ? I'll bet the prick was glad not to see me."

"_I'm serious. He asked us where you were, and we told him your sister had fallen dangerously ill and you were at her bedside, nursing her back to health._"

"Wha..?!"

"_Be grateful. Thanks to us, you've gotten a week's reprieve. Make sure you show your face on Monday, we're running out of excuses here_."

Ichigo exhaled a sigh of relief. "I owe you one, Renji."

"_No problem. Just be careful, will you ? It's only the second day of our final year and at this rate, you're gonna get expelled for sure._"

"I will. Thanks." Ichigo shut his cell phone and looked distractedly at the crates waiting to be delivered. A week's time was very good news; his sisters' middle school entrance ceremony was in a week and if he worked hard, he would be able to make a nice little pile, enough to buy new uniforms, shoes and books. Plus, the electricity bill was overdue, and groceries to be paid for...with renewed energy, Ichigo speedily shovelled the crates into the van.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Yo, Renji ! Sado ! Ishida !"

Renji turned and grinned as he slipped his cell in his pocket. "'Sup, Ikkaku-san, Yumichika-san ?"

It was immediately obvious that Ikkaku was in a shitty mood. His face was dark as he strode beside them, his shoes crunching the gravel with unnecessary force. He said very quietly, "I'm thinking of killing Byakuya Kuchiki."

Renji and Sado exchanged startled looks. Ishida, however, merely adjusted his glasses. "It's Kuchiki-_sensei_, Ikkaku. And didn't you learn anything in class today ?"

"Screw you, four-eyes !" he snapped. "We're not all teacher's pets, and I loathe that bastard. I'd really like to kill him, or at the very least, give him some shit. What about you, Renji ? You don't like him either, right ?"

Renji cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. Ikkaku paused and stared at him in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sado spoke up. "Kuchiki-sensei is not so bad."

"It's true," agreed Renji. "He's snotty, but he knows his subject, and he'll keep at it until we've understood what he's talking about. How many teachers do we know who care that much ?" He paused. "Also, he picked me to read a part in the play. No one's ever picked me to read before, y'know. They don't think I'm smart enough. He's only the teacher apart from Hirako-sensei to ever acknowledge me."

"Lucky boy," murmured Yumichika. "Ikkaku's not been so lucky, have you ?"

His eyes flashed with hatred. "The prick threatened to cut off my scholarship if I didn't do what he said."

"What ?!"

"Oh yeah, cut it off by flunking me in his subject. Everyone knows it would take only one failed test for me to be kicked out of school. "

"Aren't you over-simplifying things, Ikkaku ?" said Uryuu sharply. "Wasn't it because you pushed Kuchiki-sensei too far ? Everyone in class knows you acted like an asshole."

Ikkaku clenched his fists. " Asshole or not, he had no right to pull such a dirty trick. My ma is weak enough as it is , and it would kill her if I got expelled. Her one reason for living is to see me graduate from high school."

"Then let's get rid of him." stated Yumichika calmly. The others stopped and looked at him; his face had a twisted little smile that marred his delicate features. "We won't solve anything by arguing. Get rid of him, one way or another. It's as simple as that." Ikkaku nodded once, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Sado raised his hand in protest. "Whatever you guys are planning, I want no part of it. I have nothing against Kuchiki-sensei."

"Neither do I. Count me out." said Renji firmly.

"Absolutely not." added Uryuu.

"Che, fine. We'll ask Ichigo and Shuuhei and see what they think." They sauntered off, leaving the worried trio staring after them.

"Shouldn't we stop them ?" wondered Renji.

"What's the use ? You saw the look on Ikkaku's face. Whether today or tomorrow or later, he will have his showdown."

"Yeah, but we can still warn Kuchiki-sensei." pointed out Uryuu. "Maybe I should..." He turned uncertainly in the direction of the school, only to have Renji pull him back by the collar. "Don't."

"But-"

"No telling on your comrades to a teacher." said Renji sternly. "Plus, it doesn't matter what you do. If sensei wants to survive here, sooner or later he will have to deal with this on his own."

* * *

**Author's note: I just want to clarify a few things:**

**a) The beginning of this story is set in April, and will unfold over a span of months. In Japanese schools, April-May marks the beginning of the new academic year, while it denotes end of term in most American universities. So Byakuya is beginning a new year in Karakura High, Ichigo and co. are seniors, while Rukia is a university student.**

**b) Ikkaku and Hisagi are minus their facial markings, and Yumi minus his feathers. This is to make them more school student-y ( though I guess that's impossible). Renji's tattoos will be more or less intact, for a good reason. Just keep reading :p and go ahead, review. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Rating: **T for language

**Disclaimer: **Is this necessary? Kubo owns Bleach and Van Halen own the title.

* * *

_**Chapter 5**_

* * *

In the days that followed, Byakuya's life fell into a routine: wake up early, have coffee, grade the students' papers, watch the news, shower and breakfast before dressing and heading for school. Then followed the rush hour of classes divided by lunch breaks in the staffroom; despite his reserve, he had gotten to know most of the teachers quite well. The ones who irritated him the most were Hirako, followed a close second by Lisa and Nemu. He had seen them deep in animated discussion many times; on closer hearing the topic turned out to be an article from a porn magazine, of which Nemu kept a supply locked in her staffroom desk. Was this how she taught biology ? He didn't want to know. When he walked into the staffroom, Lisa was always deep in concentration, apparently reading some tome on chemistry. He had to pass behind her to reach his desk, and once made the mistake of looking over her shoulder.

It was a pity no one had invented eye bleach. Or a memory wiper like the ones they used in science fiction. Once he saw Lisa's actual reading material, he wanted to go blind. Or better yet, strangle his colleague.

"What ?" demanded Lisa, as he gave her a frosty glare. "I'm only human, it's perfectly natural. Shinji reads them too."

"That makes it even worse."

"I don't know what you're talking about. You're a little uptight, aren't you ?"

Not dignifying that with a response, Byakuya went to his desk. He did not bother to unpack his lunch; the graphic imagery had ruined his appetite.

Lisa adjusted her specs and peered at him owlishly. "Repression is not good for your health, you know. It's probably the reason why you're so snippy. Now...you're new around here and might not get a hot date at first, so I'll be generous and loan you some from my collection. If you ask nicely."

He raised his head to give a biting reply, but she was buried in her "book" once again. Byakuya restrained himself with an effort and focused on grading assignments.

The students were another source of headaches for him; to be specific, two of them. As the week went by, Byakuya succeeded in gaining the respect and attention of most of his students; news of his confrontation with Ikkaku Madarame had spread, establishing his reputation as a stern, no-nonsense teacher. His classes were tough, but engaging; after-school review was mandatory. He insisted on understanding rather than rote memorisation and made it a practice to question them on the previous days' lessons at the beginning of every class, dismissing the groans and complaints. From the shivering students picked at random, the ones who answered to his satisfaction felt like The Chosen People, while the ones who botched their answer awaited their punishment with a sickening feeling of dread.

"Goddamn slave driver !" wailed Keigo after class. He'd been 'tagged' that day.

Tatsuki snorted. "Serves you right. Even I know that Hamlet is not a miniature burger."

"It was a joke ! Did he have to give me that scary look ? Is it _my_ fault the guy's got no sense of humor, hah ?!"

"I think he punished you because you're not very funny, Asano-san." said Mizuiro cheerfully.

"Shaddap ! Does he have to ask these questions every day ?! Don't we have enough to study as it is ?"

"It's not so bad." piped up Orihime. "Thanks to Kuchiki-sensei, I actually remember my lessons a lot better."

"Same here." added Renji. "And I've always hated English, so that's something."

"Goddamn you, traitors !"

Perhaps the only ones who were openly hostile to the new teacher was Ikkaku and his group. He and Byakuya eyed each other impassively like enemies across a battlefield. Every time he entered 17-B, Byakuya made it a point to covertly examine his desk and chair before he sat down; he had not forgotten the stories. Neither did he waste energy questioning Ikkaku. The bald-head, for his part, had ceased his routine of jokes and comments; he sat with his arms folded, remaining utterly silent, which itself seemed ominous. Tension was rife and it was only a matter of time.

Through it all he was dogged by the feeling of constant fatigue that no amount of caffeine or sleep could shake off. It was a new and unpleasant feeling, one he'd not experienced in his university days. He could successfully ignore it while at school and distracted by work; as soon as he locked the door to his silent house, the tiredness returned with renewed force, drooping his eyelids, crushing his shoulders and tugging him to the bed where he would sleep for ten hours straight only to jerk awake before dawn feeling groggy and disoriented, mind spinning with images that made him nauseous.

What was happening to him ?

_"Returning to teaching so soon will not be good for your health..."_

What was he supposed to do ? Sit here and slowly go insane ? He couldn't stand the thought of socialising; unnecessary talk leading to questions he didn't want to answer. He valued his privacy and wanted to be left alone.

The only time he felt any peace was during the dark hours before sunrise, while sipping his coffee on the back porch and staring out at the garden. It was the sole reason for which he had bought this townhouse: a small, lush, shady green patch enclosed by a grove of fragrant cherry blossoms and plums which effectively blocked the view of his house from the back. Tucked within the garden was a small, clear pond bordered with pebbles. He liked seeing the water shimmer and change hues as the light shifted.

Sad that it was the only thing in his life he could look forward to, reflected Byakuya. That, and occasional visits from Rukia.

* * *

Ichigo slumped in his seat, fighting to stay awake. It was Monday and true to his word, he'd dragged himself to class. Work had tired him out way more than he'd anticipated, with the result that he'd crashed into bed on Sunday with the excuse that classes were tough and he'd been studying late all week. Mercifully, his brain had been too exhausted to conjure any nightmarish visions, and he'd slept round the clock.

"Sup, Renji ?" he mumbled, automatically fending off Keigo's 'surprise' attack with a jab to the eye.

The redhead peered at him. "The hell's wrong with you ? You look like shit."

"Yeah, cuz I feel like shit-OW !"

"It's about time, you moron. Do you _want_ to get expelled ? Are you planning to graduate _at all _? Or do you think you can somehow scrape your way through anything ? We can't cover your ass the whole damn time !" snapped Tatsuki, knuckles raised after the blow she'd dealt to his noggin.

"Calm down, Tatsuki-chan." spoke up Orihime hastily. "Kurosaki-kun didn't mean to do it, he just gets distracted sometimes-"

"Well, _good morning_ to you too ! And you wonder why no guy in our school will date you ?!"

Just as Tatsuki lunged at him (aiming for his crotch this time), Professor Kuchiki chose that moment to enter; she was forced to stop mid-lunge and allowed Orihime to drag her to her seat while shooting a filthy look at Ichigo, who rolled his eyes.

"Good morning, Kuchiki-sensei."

"Good morning."

Ichigo kept his mouth shut, folded his arms and leaned back. He was trying to stifle a yawn as the teacher took roll-call; when Byakuya reached 'Kurosaki', he curtly responded. "Here."

Byakuya looked up and spotted Kurosaki at the back; sunlight streamed in from the nearby window and illuminated his face. He looked tired and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

_So, it seems they were telling the truth_, he mused. Aloud he asked : "Is your sister feeling better, Ichigo Kurosaki ?"

His head jerked up. "What ?"

Byakuya's gaze was steady. "Your sister. I was informed that she was gravely ill and you were tending to her. Has she recovered ?"

Ichigo belatedly recalled Renji's words. "Uh, yeah, she's alright."

"What was her illness ?"

"Aahh, she had a...a really high fever. It was so bad that she was delirious. She had a headache and lost weight and was puking every day-"

"I was told she needed bed rest for a month. How fortunate that she recovered so fast."

"Yeah, yeah, she was really lucky, good thing I-"

"Especially so considering her symptoms. They sound rather serious. Didn't the doctors think so too ?"

Ichigo was sweating. _C'mon, Buttrod, gimme a break._ Inoue's face (hidden behind her textbook) turned beet-red; Renji on the other hand, was examining a spot somewhere to the right of his desk. "She was just pretty lucky," he finished lamely.

To his relief, Byakuya didn't press him further and proceeded with the lesson. But if Ichigo thought he had wriggled free, he was sadly mistaken. When the bell rang to signal the next class, he got up to leave with the rest when the teacher called to him.

"Ichigo Kurosaki, a word with you."

He paused in front of the desk, eyeing Byakuya warily.

"Have you been keeping up with the lessons you've missed ?"

"Sort of."

"Very well. I'll give you three days to catch up with what I've taught this past week."

"What ?"

"Because in three days' time, I'm going to test you on everything you've learnt so far."

His jaw dropped. "Excuse me ?"

"It's a habit of mine to review the previous day's lesson at the beginning of every class. You have a week to make up for, and you appear to be a bit slow, so I shall be lenient and grant you three days. Be warned that I have a low tolerance for slackers and for those who waste my time, and the consequences of not answering will be... unpleasant."

"Is that right ?"

"Oh yes. And one more thing." Byakuya paused and gave him a steely glare. "Stand up when I address you in class. Consider this your punishment for failing to do that today."

Ichigo gaped as Byakuya turned and strode gracefully out of the room. _Well, screw you, you snotty bastard. _He stomped out, well and truly riled; in that moment, he decided that Kuchiki could kiss his ass, because there was no way in hell he would ever acknowledge him as his teacher.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Three days later saw sensei and student butt heads once more. As soon as class began, the professor turned to Ichigo. "Stand up, Kurosaki."

He remained in his seat. His friends exchanged nervous looks.

Kuchiki-sensei's voice grew colder. "Didn't I tell you to stand when I addressed you in class ?"

"Didn't you say you were going to test me today ? You're wasting your own time, y'know. Think of the consequences." mocked Ichigo.

"So you're merely acting contrary because I told you otherwise. Interesting. I didn't expect you to be this childish. It suits your level of intelligence."

"Don't worry, I'm intelligent enough to recognise a dick when I see one."

"_Oi, Ichigo !_" hissed Tatsuki, looking worried.

"Are you also intelligent enough to recognise your imminent suspension ?"

"What are you talking about ?"

"Just this: I know your sister wasn't ill, that you skipped school on the first day and took a week's absence without permission, and that your friends were covering for you." He did not look at Renji and Orihime, but they ducked their heads, looking guilty. "You deliberately lied to me and it makes me wonder, Ichigo Kurosaki, just what you do outside of school."

Ichigo gave him a bored look. "None of your goddamn business. I'm here now, aren't I ? And you really are wasting time, you know."

"True." murmured Byakuya, to everyone's surprise. "I suppose I'd better get on with it." He walked up to Ichigo's desk; he was fairly tall and the orange head had to crane his neck to look up at him. Suddenly he regretted staying put; he instinctively preferred to be at eye level with his opponent. But he had no time to think of that as Byakuya began rapid-firing a series of questions at him. He had to work hard to recall the answers. At Inoue's insistence, he had spent his lunch breaks in the library reading her notes on 'Hamlet'; luckily, he liked Shakespeare and was able to comprehend the play. But the final question stumped him.

"Name the only role in the play that can't be doubled."

"Er-what ?"

"In other words, played by an actor who also plays another character."

Ichigo frantically tried to recall the characters and their scenes, but his memory drew a blank and for the life of him he could not remember what it was. There was movement in the corner of his eye; he turned his head a fraction and saw Keigo seated behind the teacher a little way to the right. His hand was raised and he was drawing symbols in the air.

He squinted slightly and tried to read: _h...a- no, o-_

"Remember your punishment, Asano." stated Byakuya without turning around.

Keigo's hand fell limply by his side.

"I take it that you don't know the answer."

He shrugged. "I don't."

"For your information, it's Horatio. As friend to Hamlet, he is present in scenes involving every major character, and the only one to survive till the end. For this reason, he cannot be played by an actor doubling as another."

"So, what are your 'unpleasant' consequences ? A hundred lines ? Standing outside class ? Suspension ? A spanking ?"

Was that a faint smile on Byakuya's face ? He merely pulled out his cellphone and dialed a number. "Tessai-san...yes, Ichigo Kurosaki in 17-A." Mystified, he waited as the professor pocketed the cell and returned to his desk. Moments later, the hulking form of janitor Tessai Tsukabishi stood in the doorway.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," he boomed. "Time to carry out your punishment. Come with me please."

He was having a very bad feeling about this. "Umm, what is my punishment again ?"

"You shall assist me in cleaning, scrubbing and airing the boys' toilets on the third floor."

"Hah ?!"

"Yes, I know it's a _tremendous_ responsibility, Kurosaki-san. Those toilets have been blocked for weeks and the smell is terrible. It's a job for two hands and I require an assistant. Kuchiki-sensei was kind enough to send Asano san last week," he nodded at a green faced Keigo, "but unfortunately, he fainted mid-way."

"Tessai-san and I have an arrangement." explained Byakuya. "Standing outside the class and writing lines are useless from what I've learned. As a better alternative, I send my students to do difficult chores for him. It's mutually beneficial. I've taught them a lesson, and he gets his work done." His eyes met Ichigo's; he could have sworn by all that was holy that he saw a glint of amusement in those eyes. "If you're not much use as a student, you might as well be useful to your school."

Ichigo remained speechless in his seat; he was jolted by Tessai's heavy hand clamping down on his shoulder. "Up you get, Kurosaki-san. There's plenty of work to be done." His spectacles gleamed alarmingly; he knew how to deal with recalcitrant students. The orangehead took one look at his six-foot-six muscled bulk, and thought better of throwing a tantrum. He meekly followed the janitor out of class.

And that was how two hours later, he was in an apron, scrubbing away on his hands and knees at the sodden tiles of the toilet and furiously cursing Byakuya Kuchiki in the foullest of words.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

It was early evening when Ichigo dragged himself out of the building, tired and smelling of disinfectant; after the toilet was sparkling clean, the janitor had slapped him on the back (making his knees buckle) and told him he could leave. He made his way past the soccer ground where some of his acquaintances were having a roughhouse game with the team. He spotted Chad and Shuuhei and yep, that shiny cueball was definitely Ikkaku. Yumichika was lounging in the stands and spotted him; they hailed each other and Ichigo sat down next to him, causing Yumi to wrinkle his nose.

"Blech! And why, Ichigo-kun, do you smell so fragrant ?"

"Shut up. Tessai made me clean the toilets today."

Yumi paled at the mention of the janitor and got up. "Well then, get the hell away from me, you stink ! Go home and take a bath ! And don't touch me either, you germ-infested pig, you're probably crawling with diseases from that disgusting place-AGH !" He dodged as the soccer ball barely collided with his head, making him flail and fall backward on Ichigo's lap. Out of spite, he promptly shifted his legs and let the priss land with a crash on the steps.

"OI !"

Ikkaku raced up the steps, followed by Chad; the former greeted Ichigo cheerfully while the latter helped a cross-eyed Yumichika to his feet. "Long time no see, Ichigo! Where the hell were you all this while, we've missed you ! Listen up, I need to ask you some-" he paused and sniffed. "Pee-hew ! What's that smell ?"

"Cleaning toilets..." mumbled Yumi dazedly.

"Huh ?"

"I had to clean the third floor toilet today for Tessai." supplied Ichigo grumpily. "It was a punishment by Buttrod-sensei for failing his test."

Ikkaku looked sharply at him. "You mean Byakuya Kuchiki ?"

"Who else ?"

"Does he piss you off ?"

"Isn't it obvious ?"

"What did he say ?"

"He found out that I had skipped school and threatened to have me suspended, and warned me of 'unpleasant consequences' if I didn't toe his line." Ichigo snorted grimly. "I told him he could kiss my ass, and this was his revenge. This isn't over. By the way, what did you want to ask me about ?"

Ikkaku smiled darkly. "Just that. Funny thing is, I had a bust-up with him too. He threatened to cut off my scholarship if _I_ didn't toe his line. Ever since then, I've been thinking of getting rid of him." He shot the other a meaningful look. "What say you ? Care to join in ?"

Ichigo contemplated his offer. To be honest, he was sorely tempted. His eyes darkened as he thought of Kuchiki; he couldn't explain why he had felt such an instant hostility to the new teacher, but there it was. Everything about Byakuya Kuchiki rubbed him the wrong way, whether it was his cold, impassive exterior, his autocratic demeanour or his air of smooth superiority. _Maybe I should..._

"Forget it." Chad's voice broke into his thoughts. "Ichigo is not interested."

"Stay out of this, Sado." said Ikkaku irritably.

"You said _you_ were not interested, so you have no right to comment." added Yumi as he smoothed his hair. "Ichigo-kun can make up his own mind."

Chad folded his arms and looked squarely at him. "I have no right to comment, but I'll definitely try to stop you if you do something stupid, Ichigo. Tormenting Kuchiki-sensei falls in that category." His gaze shifted to Ikkaku. "Why do you despise him so much anyway ? What do you have against him ?"

He looked furious. "Don't act all goody two shoes, boy. What, you're saying ya _luv_ him already ? There's something about that bastard that reminds me of Tsukishima. Don't pretend you don't feel the same."

Chad's shoulders tensed, while Ichigo stiffened at the name. With it surged a tide of dark memories that rooted him to the spot, memories that made him burn with shame, made him hate himself and brought a choking sensation of nausea, forcing him to briefly shut his eyes and suppress the shudder that wracked his body. Until now, he'd succeeded in forgetting almost everything that happened, or so he'd believed. _Fuck, it's probably going to haunt me forever._

When he spoke, his voice sounded strange to his ears. "Sorry, Ikkaku. Count me out."

The bald-head looked startled. "Are you serious ?"

"Yeah." He turned away. "Chad's right, I would be doing something dumb, and I don't wanna test Urahara-sensei's patience. You'll have to work something out. Take care."

Ikkaku watched crestfallen as Ichigo and Sado walked away. Behind him, Yumichika spoke. "So, what do we do now ?"

Byakuya knew that the quarrel between him and Kurosaki was far from over. When April changed to May, he encountered a series of irritations, minor when taken by themselves, but proving to be a thorn in his side when combined. Despite his best efforts, the brat still refused to address him as 'sensei', and spoke to him in an infuriatingly casual and insolent manner. It was like he was determined to provoke Byakuya; a number of taunts and mocking comments designed to test his patience to the utmost and bring him close to lashing out. Had he done so, he would have lost the moral high ground and looked exceedingly immature and foolish, which was no doubt what Kurosaki intended. Furthermore, after he'd been 'tagged' that day, he rarely allowed Byakuya another opportunity to get him in class and swiftly responded to every question thrown at him. On the bright side, he now stood up when he was spoken to.

That was not the only nuisance; as the weeks flew by, he noticed a puzzling pattern in Kurosaki's attendance. There were periods of time during which Kurosaki would be absent, sometimes for three days or more; he would make occasionally his presence felt in the morning, but was nowhere to be seen by noon. His friends explained these frequent absences with excuses which he no longer believed. However, Kurosaki would be back by next week and spend the next few days in class, disappearing again soon after.

He had been pondering this at lunch break one day, when a gentle voice interrupted him. "Good afternoon, Kuchiki san." He turned to see the maths teacher, Hachigen Ushoda, smiling at his side. "Is there a problem ? Perhaps I can be of some help to you."

Byakuya hesitated, wondering whether to consult him. On the other hand, Hachigen was a stark contrast to the other morons and one of the few teachers he got along with. "One of my students regularly plays truant and I need to know why."

Hachi nodded, looking unsurprised. "Yes, of course. Have you tried asking him ?"

"He is one of the most infuriatingly rude, stubborn and disobedient pests I have ever encountered. Even if I ask him it's unlikely that he'll answer, since he seems to view me as his enemy. His comrades won't speak up either."

"Then perhaps you ought to be a little less harsh with him, Kuchiki-san."

He bristled at the suggestion. "Absolutely not. Are you saying I should abandon my principles as a teacher and show leniency to one particular brat ? Just to soften his obnoxious behaviour ?"

Hachi raised his hands in a peaceable gesture. "I'm not asking you to abandon your principles, Kuchiki-san. I'm just saying that it would be better if you try to see the other's point of view. Karakura High is not exactly a top-notch school and many of our students come from less than stellar backgrounds. Quite a few belong to impoverished families and struggle just to stay on."

"That's no excuse. Life is harsh by definition and hard work is the only way to overcome it. I would have thought that skipping school was the surest way to end up in that life of poverty."

"What you say is valid. But remember, Kuchiki-san, what's true for you may not be so for someone else. By all means, uphold what you believe to be right, but remember that you shouldn't judge someone until you see their reality. That's the only advice I can give." Hachigen went to his desk, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

_You shouldn't judge...preposterous. How am I supposed to get the measure of someone if I don't judge them ?_

_Have you forgotten what happened ?_ whispered a sly voice in his head. _What would people think if they knew what happened to you ? Aren't you afraid of that too ?_

He flinched and took a deep breath, trying to blot out the memories. He grabbed a stack of papers and threw himself into reading the latest inanities spewed by his students, seething with anger, shame, and most of all, a desperate desire to forget.

* * *

Class 17-A had become used to the constant standoffs between their teacher and their classmate. Few were willing to take sides and most of them saw it as spectators viewing an enjoyable battle. Many agreed it was entertaining as hell while some believed it could have only one outcome: the death and burial of the losing combatant. Mizuiro and Keigo ran a brisk business betting on the odds of Ichigo getting expelled one day, and Kuchiki-sensei resigning the next. It was near the end of May when the tensions between Ichigo and Byakuya reached breaking point.

"Screw you, I'm not going to do it." His friends suppressed a groan.

"Why not ?" responded Kuchiki-sensei icily. "Is it too much for you ? I had no idea you were this pathetic."

"What's pathetic is sending someone to do slave work if they don't answer every one of your crappy questions. How are we supposed to know everything ?"

"I told you: if you're of no use as a student, you might as well be useful to your school. Doing such work will make you appreciate your responsibilities. That's something you've failed to learn."

"What I've failed to learn is how is this supposed to help me study, since that's also the responsibility of a student, am I right? By making us do unnecessary work, you're just wasting time we could have used to learn other subjects. Or does only your time count ?"

"There is no _us_ here. The others work hard to catch up on their day's lessons and ensure they won't repeat their mistakes. The same can't be said of you." His eyes bore into Ichigo's. "And that is because you are, no doubt, the most useless student I've ever met."

Ichigo matched his stare. "So what are you gonna do ? Call Tessai over if I refuse to go ?" He smirked. "It just occurred to me, you never carry out your punishments on your own, do you ? You always rely on Tessai to do it for you."

"I rely on him because I have my pride and can't be bothered with wrestling a punk like you into submission. If you insist on putting up a fight, then I shall go ahead and call Tessai, and finally get an excuse to throw you out for good."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

"Yes, _sensei._"

"Whatever you say, Byakuya."

Gasps and whispers rippled through the classroom. Byakuya looked up sharply and saw the smirk on Kurosaki's face widen into a mischievous grin. _You sonofa..._Fury hardened his features, turning them mask-like, and his grey eyes flashed. He slowly approached Ichigo and when he spoke, his tone was soft and deadly.

"You have quite a filthy mouth, Ichigo Kurosaki."

Ichigo's grin instantly vanished .

"In fact, your whole aspect is rather slovenly. It makes me wonder, if this is what you are like at school, what are you like when you are at home ? Is this what your parents have taught you ?"

He watched the young man go rigid, and went on mercilessly.

"If it's true, then I can only feel pity for you. If it is not...then I imagine they feel as ashamed of you as I am now."

A long silence greeted his words. Then Ichigo spoke, very quietly. "_**Fuck you.**_"

He raised his head, eyes glittering with rage in his pale face. "You..." he stated, every word dripping with venom, "are not my fucking _parent._ You are not good enough to be a motherfucking _teacher_." He drew a shaky breath. "Because no teacher should ever speak like that to his student."

He swung his bag and walked out of class, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

As soon as he slammed the door, Ichigo rushed to the bathroom. He grabbed the sink and heaved, the bile rising in his throat and splattering into the basin. He leaned over and retched once more, and rinsed his mouth out with water, frantically trying to get rid of the aftertaste. _Fuck you, Kuchiki, you sonofabitch. _The professor's insults had struck a raw spot this time; what hurt the most was knowing that he was right, that his parents would be ashamed of him, ashamed if they ever knew what he'd done. It was this guilt that kept him awake at night and drove him to a near-desperate state of recklessness; simply put, he no longer cared what happened to him.

He could not bear the thought of returning to class. Instead, he left the building in search of his usual escape route, one that led to the Unagiya Shop. He didn't show up the next day, or the next. For the remainder of the week, the bench at the back was conspicuously empty.

In Ichigo's absence, the rumors spread. Gossip about the fight was told and retold until the whole school knew that Kuchiki-sensei had insulted Ichigo Kurosaki in front of the whole class, and had even gone so far as to deride his family and insult his parents. It did not matter whether the tales were actually true, all that mattered was the degree of exaggeration; and so the original story told by Ichigo's friends was lost in translation. The students were divided; where before there had been ambivalence, attitudes began to harden and there was a growing degree of ill-feeling towards the new teacher. This was made up partly of those who admired and hero-worshipped Ichigo, and partly of others who resented Kuchiki sensei and his unyielding strictness.

* * *

After Kurosaki stormed out of class, Byakuya had stiffly continued with the lesson. All throughout, he could feel the tension that lingered in the classroom, but he chose to ignore it and concentrate on the task at hand.

As for Kurosaki, he didn't return. In fact, he didn't show up for the next two weeks.

As the days passed, Byakuya became increasingly aware of the hostile glances, in the classrooms, corridors and outside the building. The staffroom was his sole refuge; if his colleagues knew, they didn't comment. His thoughts kept returning to the look on Kurosaki's face; he had aimed to cut deep, but never expected his words to provoke such a violent reaction. He could only wonder what lay behind it.

The first sign of trouble was the dead rat in his seat.

He stopped and stared at the animal stretched out on the chair, the whites of its eyes clearly visible. He heard a snigger and looked up at a sea of innocent-looking faces. Then very calmly, he picked up the rat by its tail and tossed it out the window. _Class 16-C, usually not a troublesome class, until now._ He proceeded to teach as though nothing had happened. But he did not return to his seat.

Two days later, the blackboard in 15-A toppled over, narrowly missing him; this time, he caught the culprit, a pimply-faced teen named Junichi Watanabe who had caused it to fall through a trip-wire attached to his desk. He was later spotted shoveling manure in the school yard.

Three days later, a flaming missile attached to an arrow whizzed through the staffroom window, hitting his desk and setting it alight. He barely had time to snatch his papers and get out of the way as Lisa and Hachi splashed water from their bottles in a vain attempt to put it out. The others raced to the staff toilet to grab buckets, and the fire was quickly extinguished.

"Lucky no one got hurt." remarked Shunsui, surveying Byakuya keenly.

"I'll have a little chat with the archery club." promised Kensei, his face grim.

He didn't respond; his face was stoic as he surveyed the charred, sodden remains of the desk. Ukitake offered to share his desk with Byakuya until a new one was delivered, an offer he gratefully accepted.

Over the following days, he continued to endure as the students' pranks escalated; dirty drawings scribbled on the blackboard, uncouth messages on the walls, gross 'gifts' delivered to the staffroom, and once, his car splashed with sticky green goo with an explicit message scrawled in it: "GO HOME FAGGOT." He had to pause then, amidst the giggles and stares and draw a deep breath. _You've endured worse. You will survive this. You're Byakuya Kuchiki and you shall not break for anyone. _The voice of his conscience that always spoke like his sister. It reminded him of the one bright spot in his life right now: she would be coming tomorrow morning.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Rukia Kuchiki walked briskly through the sliding glass doors, her eyes expectantly searching the 'Arrivals' lounge. They landed on a familiar head of raven hair, and she quickened her steps."Nii-sama !" she exclaimed joyfully as she finally spotted Byakuya in the crowd. He smiled slightly and held out his arms; she promptly rushed to hug him. "It's so good to see you. Have you been well ?"

"I'm fine."

Rukia drew back and looked closely at him, and was shocked by the change in his appearance. When he'd been leaving for Japan, he looked weary and withdrawn, but still more or less neatly groomed. In contrast, the man before her had disheveled hair and shadowy stubble on his jaw. Most alarmingly, he appeared to have lost weight and there were dark shadows under his eyes. _What's happening to him ? Isn't he sleeping well ? Is he ill ? _She mentally sighed; knowing her brother, she could expect him to remain infuriatingly silent about his problems. There was no point in asking as he would simply clam up and change the topic. She would just have to see for herself and sort it out if she could.

Byakuya found himself relaxing as Rukia chattered to him on the way home. He listened attentively as she told him about her life at the university, the courses she was taking, her friends, activities and that interesting American tradition of 'spring break'. He interrupted her at this point: "I hope you haven't gotten into any such shenanigans, Rukia."

"Nii-sama !" snapped Rukia, turning crimson. "Why would you imagine such a thing ?!"

"I've been witness to plenty of these 'spring-break' outings, and the freedom on display is tempting enough for anyone. Since you're a Kuchiki, I'm hoping you are stronger than that."

"I'll have you know that I _am_ better than that, and I don't dance around a campfire with my panties on my head. Also, did you know..."

She continued to talk as they arrived at his house, and for the first time in a long while, he began to feel better.

Later that evening over dinner, she spoke hesitantly. "Umm...nii-sama ?"

"What is it, Rukia ?"

"Are you sure you're feeling better ?"

"Yes, I am. Why do you ask ?"

"Well, because...tomorrow is nee-san's anniversary, and Sou-chan's.."

He dropped his fork with a tinkle. Of course...even with all the ruckus at school- how could he have forgotten ? He abruptly stood and slid open the wooden screen doors that led to the back porch; he walked out into the cool air, trying to rein in his emotions.

"Nii-sama ?" He turned his head to see Rukia standing anxiously in the doorway. "Please forgive me, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright." he whispered. "They were your family too."

She came out to stand beside him and stared at the garden pond. A few moments later, he felt her tiny hand slip into the crook of his elbow. "Come on, nii-sama. Let's go inside and finish our dinner. If you want, we can talk about this tomorrow." He obeyed without a murmur. Later that night, he would lie wide awake, his memory replaying the events of a year ago.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'll never take my left hand for granted again. On the plus side, I now have lots of free time, which is how I'm able to upload 2 chapters at once :-/ I read the previous chapters and realized one thing: they were a bit too short, so I tried to compensate with this one . So read and review. If you have any doubts, never underestimate the value of your words, they give me an incredible buzz and makes me want to please you (its not as kinky as it sounds)**


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